Musings on Memories

A serialisation extract from my book… Effing Faroes

I got on with Steve McClaren at Boro, and I was confident I’d get the nod once he got the England job. It was known Steve wanted to move on from your Beckhams and your Big Sols, and when I made the squad for an important 2007 clash I was over the moon. Even the sneering in the press – Sad Steve’s wRONg Turning, Ronnie Matt-WHOs?, Sir Bobby: Matthews Selection Devalues International Football etc – couldn’t dampen my spirits. The potential Faroe Islands banana skin certainly wasn’t a meaningless friendly to THIS Three Lion.

As it turned out, I unfortunately became the first England player to be sent off on debut for propositioning a female linesperson, but I told myself: they can’t take that cap away from me. And until an unprecedented decision by Sepp and his FIFA Europrats to retrospectively strip the match of its full international status on account of my so-called ‘disgraceful actions’, that was true.

Happy memories of booing the Faroe Islands national anthem aside, I’ve been in no doubt as to where I stand on the old club v country debate ever since.

Interesting question at the golf club

Played golf with Razor Ruddock,British tennis legend Elena Baltacha and that funny one off the Radio. Dave something? Comedy Chappers? Funny Fenners? Can’t remember the name which is unusual for me. But a nice guy. Knows A LOT about cars, but he don’t like Tim Lovejoy which I can understand because Lovers isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, mine excluded.

So we were having a drink after our round (I needed it after my putting!!!!!!!!!!!) and Elena’s gone: “Alright, I’ve got a good one. Would you rather fight a duck that was the size of a lion or three lions that was the size of a duck?”

Tough one, isn’t it? Razor reckoned he’d go for the duck that was the size of a lion and try to overpower it with his physical bulk. To be fair to Razor he could probably pull that off if his back was to the wall. Elena said she would kick one of the duck size lions in the face early doors and then try and get on a table or whatever. The bloke from the radio said what if they could fly though, and that would be a big ask, I grant you.

Razor reckoned you could probably roast them after, or stuff them into a lion and get it on the BBQ. I don’t agree with that, I could never eat a lion, even one that was really a duck. It’s an interesting philosophical debate

I know how Joey Barton feels

Really feel for Joey Barton today what with the news that his dream move to Marseille has broken down. I know Joey a bit and believe me as a young lad growing up his one ambition in the game was to one day pull on the famous blue or green or whatever it is shirt of the French giants. Joe told me he loved the place it was because a poet called Rambo died there. I’m not one for poetry myself, or Sylvester Stallone, but Marseille has always been in Joe’s heart.

In my own career I have had the indignity of getting all hyped up for a transfer and then having the rug whipped out from underneath you and raining  on your parade at the eleventh hour. It was like when I was at Watford and they told me they was sending me on loan to Barcelona. They actually ended up sending me to work in the night-club Barcelona, which is in Rickmansworth and to be fair more known for it’s four-for-one WKD Thursdays than it is for its Tika Taka. They said if i wasn’t getting in the team I might as well make myself useful and clean up some of the vomit by the ladies loos and to be honest as a young player it takes a lot of strenght of character to come back from that sort of a disappointment.

Fox in the Box

In 16 years of football, I’ve known incredible highs on the field. And incredible highs off it, too, before I got myself straightened out. Top moment? When I walked out at Wembley. My heart swelled just to be on the same pitch as those legends. Theakston. Ramsay. That guy who’s mates with Robbie Williams. Cheryl Baker in the Makelele role. I’d arrived. Sure, the call-up to Soccer Aid came at the 11th hour, but when Ronnie Matthews has a chance to do his bit for African kiddies AND hang with some of the biggest celebrities working in Britain today, it’s very much a case of: have boots, will travel.

Of course, there have been lows as well: injury, arrests, being told I was too fat to play for the Crawley Old Red Lion just 18 months after being capped for England. Rock bottom was my last game here before I moved to Turkey. Playing for Peterborough v Watford, a fox got on the pitch and was charging around all over the shop. It nicked the ball away from me just as I was going in for a 50-50 with Big Martin Taylor and I’ve ended up catching the fox two-footed. The ref had the red card out right away and I became the first British player to be sent off for a professional foul on an animal. Looking at the replays I still say the fox made a meal of the challenge.

The physio came on to have a look at the fox and I said maybe they should put a green tent around it like at the Grand National, only they didn’t have a green tent, so Barry Fry had to hold a copy of the Daily Star over the animal to like shield it from the crowd’s eyes, and eventually they took it off on the stretcher.

I’d be lying if I said I enjoyed seeing the front pages the next day – a new low for football blah blah blah – never mind explaining to my little princess Ginseng and Ronnie Junior that Daddy had put a fox out the game for six weeks with a two-footed challenge.

But that’s football for you. One minute you’re exchanging one-twos and bedroom war stories about Amanda Holden with Neil Morrissey, next minute you’re public enemy number one for the nation’s animal rights nutters.